Out of Hand
by CatatonicVanity
Summary: A simple comment was all it had been. A shot of vodka had made it better. Two had made it a lot better. And then things got out of hand... WARNING INSIDE


**Disclaimer:** I don't own DN or its characters.

**A/N: **Holy shit, I am venting a lot. Alright, I'm sorry for venting so much.

_**WARNING! READ THIS DAMNED WARNING! This is a dark and very morbid story, NOT for the faint hearted. I warned you, so DO NOT flame me.**_

Mello stumbled into the lobby with a blood/alcohol level that would kill a normal man. Something about the comment Matt made concerning that Amane bitch had rubbed him the wrong way, though now that he was drunk, he was positively livid.

"Stupid shit, getting all sweet on that bitch, why the fuck don't he appreciate me?!" he screamed at passersby, only to be ignored. The neighborhood wasn't a very good one, and those unfortunate enough to live there were used to screaming drunks. Mello stomped up the stairs (falling several times) and grumbling the whole way, getting angrier and angrier. By the time he was at the apartment door, his gun was in his hand and angry tears were on his face.

He kicked the door open and stumbled in, growling. A redhead appeared in his line of vision, catching Mello before he teetered and hit the ground. The blonde growled again and shoved himself away, catching the back of the couch.

"You! You ungrateful, lying, unappreciative, ungrateful shit!" Mello screamed, causing Matt to back up in confusion.

"Mels what are you talking about?" The childhood nickname earned Matt a pistol whip across the cheek. The smaller male fell to the ground, clutching his cheek while blood wept through his fingers. He looked up in fear at his angry lover.

"I'll fucking teach you to get hot over some bitch that isn't me! You ungrateful shit!" The blonde's hand that wasn't occupied by the gun flew to the laces of his pants. Matt's eyes widened impossibly and he scrambled to his feet, trying in vain to run. A leather covered hand fisted in his red locks, drawing him to a halt. Mello dragged his struggling boyfriend to the bedroom and threw him face-down on the bed, crawling atop him and fumbling with his jeans. Matt struggled for a brief moment, till a blow connected right between his shoulder blades. He sobbed and fell against the bed, pushing weakly against the blonde.

Mello tore Matt's pants off and shoved him onto his back, grabbing his ankles and pulling his legs apart. Matt kicked and lashed out, only for Mello's fist to connect with his jaw. He fell back, dazed, giving the blonde just enough time to slip between his legs and push harshly into Matt's body. The redhead shrieked in pain, being harshly cut off when Mello shoved the barrel of his gun into Matt's mouth. He pulled the hammer back and glared.

"I swear to God, I'll pull the trigger. Don't make a fucking sound!" Matt nodded hastily, tears streaming down his face. Mello pulled the gun out and held it against Matt's head while establishing a harsh rhythm. Matt clung to the blonde and sobbed into his shoulder, choking out the occasional plea for Mello to stop. When Mello finished, he pulled out and stood straight, dragging Matt out of the bed and onto the floor.

"How many people have you fucked in that bed? Huh? You fucking whore, I trusted you! I loved you!"

Matt curled up into a protective ball and sobbed, gasping in pain when kicks connected and trying to crawl away. Mello delivered a particularly hard kick to Matt's temple, knocking him unconscious and giving him a severe concussion. The redhead fell to the floor, breathing shallow while his body tried not to fail. Mello scoffed disdainfully and fell into the blood soaked bed, falling fast asleep.

...

Mello awoke the next morning confused as to why his thighs felt cold. Cracking his eyes open, he groaned when a sharp pain shot through his retinas. One hand flew to cover his eyes while the other groped blindly at his legs, trying to figure out why the fuck he was cold. He sat up and found that his leather pants had been pulled down and pooled at his knees. His vest and boots were still on and his gun was in the bed beside him, but... Matt wasn't.

Mello forced his eyes opened, swallowing the urge to vomit and staring at the bed. Why was it stained red...? Was that... blood? Mello kicked his boots off, followed by his pants. Looking down, he found blood on his hips and the tops of his thighs. Wait...

Mello stood too fast, swaying on the spot and breathing hard, trying to control his nausea. When he turned and saw a familiar figure on the ground, he dropped to his knees and crawled over.

"Matty?" he croaked weakly, taking note of the blood that was pooled around him. He then realized that Matt was naked from the waist down too, covered in blood. He slowly pieced everything together, falling back in horror and emptying the contents of his stomach on the floor. "Matty?" he choked while tears burned his eyes and acidic bile burned his throat. When he received no answer, grabbed the young man's shoulder and rolled him over.

A scream broke from his throat when he saw Matt's face. Dried blood covered the ivory flesh, which was paler than normal. Too pale, in fact. A large gash was in Matt's temple, which wasn't shaped the way it was supposed to be. A gash was on his cheek, obviously from a pistol whip.

Mello screamed again and flung himself over Matt's body, searching desperately for a heartbeat that wasn't to be found. He wrapped his arms tightly around Matt's torso and screamed himself hoarse. The cops were called and Mello dressed himself, going with them and admitting to the murder. He turned himself in for his crimes in the mafia. He pleaded guilty to his crimes and was put in prison.

Two days later, he died in his nightmare ridden sleep of a heart attack, falling under Kira's scythe. He was met in Nothingness by his beloved, who granted him instant and undeserved forgiveness. Among the Shinigami, it is fabled that the duo exist in the realms of Mu, forever clutched in the other's embrace.


End file.
